1997
by princesstaranee
Summary: I miss you tonight. It's so difficult here, without you. Won't you come back to me?


**A/N: Merry Christmas, everybody! So here's yet another Taylor Swift-inspired one-shot, this time for Christmas. I've been warned that it's sad. But I think I've only actually written one happy fic ever! Enjoy. :)**

1997

I stood there, looking at Harry, the Horcrux in my hand. I healed the mark on his chest with some dittany. He was still screaming in his sleep. I bit my lip. I didn't know what was wrong with him. I briefly considered smuggling him into St Mungo's, but decided against it. There were more important things to worry about.

I glanced down at his broken wand, lying on the floor and took a couple of breaths. What a close escape, I thought. Voldemort had been _right there_. I rested my head on the side of Harry's bunk, before turning to get into my own. As I curled up under the duvet, I couldn't help but think of what had occurred that night.

I'd never faced Voldemort directly before, though Harry had. He'd been there at the Department of Mysteries, of course; I knew that now. But I had been unconscious by the time he had arrived. And every time before that… Well, I'd been watching what I thought was an innocent if very dangerous game the night he came back. And I'd been petrified when Harry and… _He_ had gone down to the Chamber of Secrets. Looking back on it… There wasn't much I had done to help Harry when it came to facing Voldemort one-on-one! I knew that E in Defence against the Dark Arts would come back to bite me!

I thought back to the graveyard, to Ignotus Peverell's gravestone with the strange rune on it. What did it mean? Maybe it was really old, I wondered. Older than the school syllabus required the textbooks to go. I considered going to retrieve the book from my bag, but thought against it. I remembered the scene in the graveyard; the pretty, old-fashioned Church and the yew trees. The carol singing made me think of my years in my Primary School choir, singing flatly at Church services.

It was Christmas Eve. Where had the time gone? And how long would we be touring the Great British countryside for? How many Christmases would it be before I saw by family again? We had one Horcrux and no way to destroy it.

Inevitably, my thoughts turned to Ron. Merlin, but I missed him. How long had he been gone now? A year? A month? There had been mistletoe in the churchyard. I bit my lip, thinking of how there had been some in the Room of Requirement in our last DA meeting before the Christmas holidays. Harry and Cho had kissed.

But I didn't want to think about that. Everything I wanted was miles away in a snow-covered little town. I wondered if I should have sent them a card, to let them know that we were alright. But no, it would have been too risky.

I bet Mrs Weasley was worrying about us. What would I have written in the card? 'Season's Greetings. I hope you're all well.' I laughed scathingly at my own thoughts then. No one was 'well' any more. I smiled a little at the memory of Mrs Weasley's clock: we were all in 'Mortal Peril.'

I wished then, that Ron could hear me. "I've been doing alright, if you were wondering," I breathed. But I didn't know any more. Did he even still think of us?

I glanced back over to Harry. He was twitching worryingly. I sent up a silent prayer for him.

And, unsurprisingly, back to Ron again. I'd been doing fine without him. _Really_. At least before I'd learnt the date. Was Lavender there at The Burrow with everyone? Were Tonks and Lupin together again? Was Percy there? Did everyone except Harry and I have someone to hold?

"Merry Christmas, everybody," I whispered to the air. I supposed it would just have to be something I said to Harry this year.

I bet Mrs Weasley had made them all jumpers again. Had Fred and George spoofed the crackers? When they put up the Christmas tree, did they notice two less pairs of hands?

I sighed. Christmas shouldn't be a lonely time, I thought. _But there were Christmases when I didn't wonder how you are tonight. Because there were Christmases when you were mine…_

* * *

><p>Hermione's eyelids fluttered softly. She stirred and shook her head. Reaching one arm out from under the snug covers, she quickly checked her watch. 23:57. Three minutes to go, she thought. The radio in the corner of the room was still on, quietly playing 'Silent Night'. She reluctantly ventured out of bed to turn it off.<p>

She supposed she should go back to bed, but she was too awake now. And her dream was haunting her. She could still remember that night as if she were eighteen again. She pulled on her dressing gown and stood with her forehead against the window. She breathed mist onto the glass.

She glanced down into the dark garden. No snow again, this year. There had been snow that cold night in 1997, she remembered. Godric's Hollow had been a very pretty village. Christmas card perfect, she thought. Like Hogsmeade. She sighed. The cars did ruin that scene.

Hermione had always loved Christmas. She loved the entire season: decorating the house, playing stupid Christmas songs on the radio, writing Christmas cards to people you didn't hear from at any other time… She was a firm believer that you didn't have to spend a lot of money to buy the best presents. She always made a list of whom to buy for and she enjoyed checking them off when all the presents were wrapped, bows and ribbons and tags, and placed under the Christmas tree until it was time to exchange gifts. This year there had been an extra person to give for at the Potters' house.

She had visited her parents today, which she loved. They were her primary connection to the Muggle world and she always gave them something wizard-y whilst they gave her something Muggle. Last year they had bought her a TV, which made her laugh, considering she didn't have a TV license, nor did she have any clue about Muggle pop culture anymore. She had been glad, though, as she had discovered that her favourite childhood TV show, _Doctor Who_, had been revived. Tomorrow would be the first Christmas special. She laughed, excited. She glittered as she stood there, all thoughts of her dream now forgotten in her gladness. In a week it would be 2006. She giggled like a girl again. How much would she be willing to bet that she receive an advertisement for a 'New You!' again? Glancing at her watch again, she saw that it was now midnight. She blew some more mist onto the window, before turning to go back to bed.

As she clambered in as elegantly as she could, she saw the figure of her sleeping husband lying there. "Merry Christmas, Ron," she whispered against his ear. "I love you."


End file.
